


An Inn of Disrepute

by missmarycontrary



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 14:34:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1188768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmarycontrary/pseuds/missmarycontrary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arya and Gendry find themselves separated from the group, and have been lost in the forest for days - so an Inn in the middle of nowhere seems very appealing. Little do they know that they've wandered into a place where lust is the order of the day, and inhibition is left behind. Written for Smutty Westeros Fic Exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Inn of Disrepute

Gendry was throwing back a pint of ale as the woman sat next to him slipped her hand across his thigh. Under normal circumstances he would have found a way to get rid of her. Or, with just a bit more drink in him, he might have turned to her with a smile, maybe even played along for a short while. But not now. Right now, he was so distracted by his own thoughts that he barely moved, continuing to stare straight at the wall ahead. The hand eventually slipped away, accompanied by quiet murmurs of frustration. Soon the invasive smell of the wench’s flowery perfume also receded, and he was again alone with his thoughts.

Oh, those thoughts. His mind was plagued by what was going on behind him, fuelled all the more by an overzealous imagination which refused to be quieted. It angered him more and more by the second, and though he stubbornly refused to show it, he could feel something unpleasant in the pit of his stomach, writhing more with every moment that passed.

He and Arya had stumbled through the door of the Inn hours earlier, drenched from the piercing rain, with an overwhelming sense of relief – one that couldn’t be further from what he was feeling now. The mist and rainclouds had darkened the sky earlier than usual, and neither Gendry nor Arya could bear the thought of sleeping on the wet ground of the forest for yet another night. It was a remote place, in the middle of nowhere, but despite that it seemed remarkably busy.

‘I guess I could offer to fix something,’ he had mumbled, looking around at the somewhat crumbly interior. ‘Mayhaps they’d give us a room then…’

He didn’t have much time to ponder his offer further as Arya pushed past him, pulling a bag of coins from somewhere within her shirts, walking towards the bar.

‘We want a room please. We can pay.’

At the clinking sound of the coins the landlady gave a crooked smile, gesturing for Arya to follow her up the narrow staircase behind her. He didn’t think he’d ask where she got the money – some things were best left a mystery.

As the two women walked away, Gendry couldn’t help but watch Arya. He has often wondered how many people noticed how feminine this young man was, or if he just saw it because he already knew. For sure, it wasn’t obvious that it was a woman beneath those rags she wore. Arya was skinny, short, her hair straggly. But as much as she aimed for a scrambling, manly walk, there was something about the way she moved, that made Gendry wonder how he had missed it for so long. It was almost feline – something purely Arya.

His thoughts were increasingly veering this way these days, and yet again he had to remind himself that he had no business thinking about how a Lady did or didn’t walk. He tore his eyes away, and in doing so noticed the unusual clientele of this remote Inn for the first time. The atmosphere was dark and noisy; nearly every seat had a man on it, all clearly getting started on an extended night of drinking. All around them, disreputable looking women hovered in wait. He resolved to stay out of the way – he was too tired for any nonsense tonight.

It was hours later when it started. They were sat by themselves, tucked into a dark booth in the corner of the inn, bickering as usual. Arya wanted to leave early in the morning, and get as far to the east as they could in the daylight. He contested that they should enjoy the chance to rest for as long as they could. The discussion ended with Arya stabbing a knife in to the oak table, and both of them finishing their ale far too quickly. Gendry sighed as he got up.

‘I guess I’ll get the next round then,’ he muttered. Arya went to grab some more coins from the bag to give to him, but he waved them away.

‘Don’t worry, m’Lady, I’ve got me own.’ He chuckled at the grimace that appeared on her face, and left to join the crowd around the busy bar.

It was when he’d turned around, that he could hardly believe his eyes. Arya wasn’t alone. A young woman had taken his place, and was currently trying to get as close to the young man beside her as she could. He could barely see from across the room, but the woman’s face was painted, with bright red cheeks. Her breasts almost spilled from the top of her bodice as she pressed herself against Arya’s chest.

Gendry fought to suppress a snort of laughter. Serves her right for going about as a man! He leant back on the stool, drink in hand, and waited for the inevitable cry for help.

But to his dismay, Arya didn’t seem as embarrassed as he’d expected. She just sat still, only shrugging away slightly. When the wench brought her own goblet to Arya’s lips, she barely hesitated before taking a gulp. Perturbed, Gendry followed suit from across the dark room.

He leant back against the bar as he watched them whispering. His fist tightened on the handle of his goblet as he watched the girl lean in, brushing Arya’s neck with her lips. Surely she’d stop her? But no. She seemed to jump slightly, before taking another sip of her drink. How much had they had, Gendry wondered? They’d been sat there all afternoon. Arya was a slight girl – she wasn’t as good at taking her drink as he was.

He was about to go over and get rid of the persistent wench when Arya did something that shocked him. Damn – he could hardly see, the room was so crowded, and noisy – but was that Arya’s hand, brushing the girls breast?

He turned around, fixing his eyes on the wall behind the bar. This wasn’t happening. His jaw clenched, and he didn’t know why. He barely noticed the girl pressing herself against him, because he was so bloody distracted by what was happening in that dark corner, and when her flowery scent disappeared he breathed a low sigh of relief. He heard a deep laugh beside him – the girl had found someone interested, at least – and he slammed his empty goblet on the wood, asking for a refill.

By the time it came, another five minutes had passed. He didn’t want to turn back, but he stood, hovering just behind a group of men and women to try and get a glimpse of what was happening in the corner.

Where was she? Oh wait, they had swapped positions. The woman was almost entirely in shade now, and her front was hidden by Arya, who had her back to the room. The light of the flickering candle on the table did little to illuminate them. What were they doing?

_Shit_. Arya had her hands up the wench’s skirts, he was sure of it. The room was so noisy they couldn’t be heard – as the whores peddled their wares, sighs of pleasure were started to appear from all the nooks and crannies of the room. But the tilt of Arya’s arms, the way she was so close to her, leant in to her. The way the woman’s face had dropped back, mouth open.

A rush of blooded headed south, and there was a buzzing in his ears as Gendry wet his suddenly dry throat with his remaining ale, finishing yet another goblet. _Shit shit shit_. He had to do something. He started to push through the crowd, unsure of what he would even do when he reached them.

He hardly knew what was happening as he appeared at the table, just behind the small outcrop of wall which kept it divided from the rest of the room. He could hear them now, the whore moaning under her breath, Arya saying ‘quiet, quiet’. He could feel the tightness in his trousers, his cock starting to strain against the material, which he hid with the empty goblet in his hand. The white noise returned, drowning out the sudden short shrieks he had been hearing, and one long moan, and then the whispers that followed. His eyes had drifted shut when he suddenly felt someone brush past him, making him look – it was the wench, leaving, a look of confusion fighting with the satisfaction on her face.

Without thinking he threw the goblet down onto a table and pushed into the booth. Arya didn’t spot him straight away – she was clearly lost in her thoughts, with reason. She was biting on her hand to keep from laughing, and she only stopped when his flew out, unbidden, to grab her shoulder.

‘Arya…’ He didn’t know what to say, what to do. He felt like he’d gone mad, like he was getting more so by the second.

She looked at him and her mouth opened, her lips wet - but for the first time in his memory, she didn’t say anything. She was staring at him, his reddened face, his heaving chest. _Why the fuck am I so angry_ , he thought? His tongue scrambled to say what he wanted to say.

‘Gendry… it seemed funny at the time.’ Her mouth closed, and the amusement on her face seemed to fade.

He pushed into the seat beside her. ‘A whore tries to fuck you and you fuck her instead? That seemed funny to you? Seven hells!’

‘Well I didn’t fuck her, did I? Obviously! A man has to fuck a woman.’ He could see she was starting to breathe heavily too, and they were so close he could see the lipstick marks on her neck. Her words pushed him over the edge.

He grabbed her and pulled her face to his, and kissed her. On top of her musty breath was the scent of someone else, something he had to kiss away as fast as he could. He pushed her into the corner, pressing his body against hers, feeling her lips part beneath his. His tongue slipped into her mouth, and for the first time she pushed herself back against him. Arya was never one to let someone else win. He scrambled for her hand and moved away.

‘Where’s our room?’ he panted.

‘Er – up the stairs, at the back. The furthest away.’

‘Let’s go. Slowly though!’

She left slightly ahead of him, walking slowly through the crowd, towards the stairs. He took a few deep breaths and followed, covering his obvious hardness with his hands as his eyes followed her, and he went up the stairs too.

He chased her down the empty corridor, keeping his distance, but hearing her laugh only fuelled his lust. Such a laugh from Arya was so rare it startled him a bit. He saw with relief that there were only store rooms to the right and left of their chamber– he had no plans to be quiet tonight. As she opened their door and spun to meet him, he caught up to her, grabbed her around the waist, and lifted her into the room until he could throw her onto the bed.

He moved quickly to close the door, and when he turned, she had kicked off her shoes and was starting to untie her shirt.

‘No no,’ he panted, ‘that’s my job, m’lady.’ She swatted his head as he crawled over her but missed, and as he started to pull apart the ties of her shirt, her fingers weaved into his hair. It sent a tremor down his body, down into his toes. _Gods_ , he thought. _Why haven’t I done this earlier?_

She wriggled to escape her shirt as he pulled it free, revealing only the binding she wore to pass as a man. He ran her fingers up and down the strips of cloth, and Arya curved her back to let him at the knot. She had a slightly look of trepidation on her face, but as ever she was too stubborn to announce any such feeling aloud. As his fingers pulled the knot loose she wriggled upwards, allowing it to fall and Gendry to unwind it.

When he looked back, he felt another thrill. There she was, covered in scars, scratches, bruises from sleeping on hard ground for weeks on end, but utterly perfect. Her breasts were small – _lady-like_ , he thought, but didn’t say – and her nipples were hard. As his fingers brushed them he prayed it was a reaction to him, and not the wench from downstairs.

Evidently tired of his admiring gaze, Arya leant forwards to pull his rough shirt over his head, before running her small hands up and over his muscled chest. He sighed, and her hands gripped his head this time, pulling him forward for a kiss. He was knelt on the bed, and together they rose up on their knees and held each other close, their bare chests pushed tight together.

One hand dropped from his head, and he shuddered and bucked forwards as it went between them to brush his crotch. Her lips pulled away from his as she looked down, and he kissed her forehead over and over as she pulled at the ties of his trousers, sighing under his breath.

Finally he could feel the cold of the room against the heat of his cock, and his heart stopped for a moment as Arya said: ‘oh…’

He looked up, distraught. ‘Oh?!’

‘No no no, I mean, it’s lovely, more than… I mean…’ she sighed, unable to quite say what she was thinking. The look in her eyes was certainly encouraging, even if her words weren’t, and Gendry relaxed a bit. ‘But this is why you can fight in a battle and I can’t? That seems silly.’

‘Well, soldiers needs swords, stupid.’ A sharp bark of a laugh escaped her as she continued staring.  
  
‘You must have seen one before though?’ he asked nervously.

‘Well yeah I’ve got brothers, and travelling with you guys, you don’t exactly hide them. But not like this…’ Her finger brushed his tip and he groaned.

‘Oh my gods,’ he moaned. He couldn’t carry on like this – he wasn’t exactly experienced, but he knew he wasn’t going to satisfy Arya at this rate.

‘You’ve got to show me yours now, though,’ he said as he stood and stepped out of his trousers, fairly confident about his nakedness now. Then he crawled back on to the bed and pushed her gently back, pulling the belt loose from her trousers. He pulled them over her hips as she laughed and kicked them free, and suddenly there was no breath in his lungs, and his length twitched against his stomach.

There she was, lying there, looking slightly embarrassed but nonetheless beautiful. He took it all in, her mischievous eyes, the shine of sweat on her skin, her heaving breasts, the slim hips, the thatch of dark hair between her legs, her toes curling against the rough sheets of the bed. As he watched her, the thought of her hands between the legs of the wench rose unbidden in his mind, and he gripped her thighs, hard – but she moaned, and when he looked, she had a satisfied smirk on her face. He pulled her roughly towards him, then lay down next to her, leaning half over her, his head resting on his elbow.

They could both feel his length pressed against her hip, and as she deliberately writhed against him, he couldn’t help but let out a groan of pleasure. _Fine,_ he thought, _if this is how we’re playing it._ His finger flew to her sex, and without thinking he slid a finger down between her folds. A loud curse filled the room and he grinned. _Success._

He didn’t know exactly what he doing but he’d heard enough bawdy tales to imagine. Listening to her moans he rubbed between her legs, high up, and when her body suddenly bucked upwards he guessed he’d found the right place. His hand was getting coated in her wetness, so he slid his middle finger down, crooking it until it slipped inside her.

They both paused, and Gendry’s head fell to her breast, his tongue flicking at the hard nipple. Shivering sighs filled his ears as he drew the finger in and out, so he slid another finger inside, the ball of his palm rubbing against her clit until she was writhing beneath him. She moaned his name, and he couldn’t take it anymore, bringing his head back to her ear.

‘Is this what you did to that whore, m’lady?’ he asked, and she moaned, half a cry. ‘Played with her until she was crying out for more?’ Arya was scrambling against the sheets, but she nodded. ‘Why did you do it?’

‘I wanted to see if I could do it to someone else,’ she gasped. His hand stilled. _To someone else_ … her hand gripped his and encouraged him to keep going, so he did, and her moans made him harder than he’d even thought possible.

‘You... you’ve…’

‘Yes, Gendry. Gods!’ She caught her breath. ‘I didn’t realise what it was when I first…’ she moaned again. ‘And when she came up to me… I wanted to see if it was the same for someone else.’

Unthinking, he pulled his fingers out of her and pulled her on top of him, feeling her light weight press down on him. _Fuck._ ‘So while we’ve been travelling, you’ve been… doing that, to yourself?’ He held her still as she tried to sit up on top of him, ignoring the twitches of his cock. She nodded dismissively.

‘Like you weren’t -‘

Gendry covered her mouth with his own, unable to take anymore. _Seven hells. All this time she was… playing with herself…_

Her hand gripping his cock startled him out of his thoughts, and he noticed she was sat on top of him, and suddenly, all too soon, her tight wetness was all around him and pushing down, and he was inside her, just a bit, then completely. His hands clutched at the sheets – typical Arya, no bloody patience. The sensation was overwhelming, like nothing he’d ever known. He felt her still for a moment, and when he looked at her she was biting her lip, grimacing. He fought the overwhelming urge to thrust upwards, and waited for her to relax. After a few moments he couldn’t take it anymore and sat up, wrapping his arms around her to pull her down with him.

He rolled them over again, and when he was sure she was comfortable, he moved his hips forward, so slowly it was almost painful. She moaned, and he moved a hand to toy with one of her breasts, needing to feel all of her, touch all her body, his nails biting into her skin. ‘Faster,’ she whispered, and he bucked forwards, trying not to go _too_ fast, not to finish too soon. But in defiance of his self-control her legs wrapped around him, drawing him in deeper, and he couldn’t help himself any longer.

He couldn’t think of anything else but the sensation of her body, of their quickening rhythm, the harsh moans and cries slipping from her. Her fingers weaved in with his over her breast, and she brought them down between them. He leant on his other arm as she guided him to her clit again. Her fingers brought his trembling to the spot, and then moved to grab at his buttocks, as they got faster and faster, crying out-

She was starting to get tighter and tighter and he could hardly take it, kissing her over and over, until she cried out his name, different this time. His head snapped back – he wanting to see her coming, see every moment of it. She was chewing on her lip as he rubbed at her clit, drawing far out of her and thrusting deep back in, and suddenly her whole body shuddered and clenched, and she breathlessly cried out his name, her legs writhing against the sheets.

With that cry he couldn’t hold on any longer, and with a few more thrusts he felt his stomach pull tight, and trembling, he spilled his seed inside her, hot and messy and wonderful.

‘Seven hells,’ they said simultaneously. He pulled out of her and she looked down at where they had been joined, curious. He watched her gaze, feeling overwhelmingly peaceful until he was hit with a sudden realisation.

‘Oh shit. What if you – if we-’

‘Don’t worry. The landlady gave me a drink for it.’ She laughed as she moved to pull the sheets over them, and he fell to her side.

‘What? She knew you were a girl- a woman, that is?’ But she shook her head, clearly holding in laughter.

‘Nah – she said I was to give it to a girl if I spent the night with her. I think I found a better option though…’ Gendry’s chest puffed with pride, but it was short lived. ‘But I bet that wench would have a tip or two for you!’

‘Oh you do, do you?’ he said, throwing the sheet around them and pulling her close again. ‘Well we’ll see about that!’

 


End file.
